Rain in Miami
by Marie-xx
Summary: Living in Miami, Rain tries to learn the normality of society and tries desperately to keep her Desire under control. Unable to do so she hunts the only monsters she deems killable. But Rain realises she under someone's radar and that someone doesn't tolerate killers.
1. Chapter 1

Walking slowly down the sandy beach I stare at the open sea, wondering when will the day my body will be floating at sea, free from the hell I call reality. Pretty girls jog down the beach, their luscious hair swinging side to side, men walk their dogs and old couples sit on the bench sharing an ice-cream between them. I feel nothing, less than nothing.  
The sun heats my olive skin and sand rubs in-between my toes, I can feel the physical attributes of the world around me, but internally, I am empty. I stop in my tracks, carefully bending down to pick up a rock, I attempt to skip it across the glistening water but it sinks without a single skip.  
Licking my dry lips, I turn my back on the sea and make my way towards civilisation again.

"Your late Rain" my manager hisses as I stalk out of the lift. I apologise and begin to walk to my office, "You're needed out in Miami metro police station" he states causing me to pause in my tracks.

"Miami metro?" I frown "I don't work with the police."

My boss's eyebrows rise with uncertainty, then with sudden anger, "Listen to me Miss Zammit, you work wherever I damn tell you do, you fucking understand that?"

I grind my teeth quietly trying to retain the Desire. I force a nod and again apologise.  
"You're the only Maltese translator in Miami and it turns out that the Fire Killer only speaks Maltese, so you're in luck."

I try to force a smile, "Yeah, okay thanks." My boss nods, and for a moment he stares at me, his dark eyes burning onto my face.

"Well! What the Hell are you waiting for? Christmas? Get a fucking move on to homicide, they need you!"

I avoid the police at all costs, especially the fucking homicide department, that's all I need.

I stand in front of the mirror tying my long black hair into a ponytail and practise smiling. I even force a few fake-laughs into the acting, just so I'm prepared.

After a few fake laughs I close my eyes tightly and smack my palms against the basin. A serial killer working for the homicide, this is going to be great, it's going to be just great.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I walk into the department and I see people who are, surprisingly, not all dressed in their police outfits, in fact they seem quite normal; but then again, so do I.  
A rounded man with a goatee and a brown colour hat walks my way, he smiles warmly to me "You must be Miss Zammit, this way, I'm Detective Angel Batista"

Unlike the encounter with my boss, I force a more-genuine smile. "Call me Rain, what's the killers' name?"

The detective rises his eyebrows at the sound of my name but doesn't make a comment. "His name is Charlie Cassar, he's been arrested for murdering and burning prostitutes along Miami coast, we've been struggling with translation, he speaks no word of English."

"It's okay" I say. My eyes track around the room and surprisingly no eyes on me. The first time I thought I'd enter Miami homicide, I thought I'd be in cuffs, but no one is even looking at me. But as I continue to follow Angel Batista my eyes latch onto another pair of eyes through a glass window. I don't recognise his face, but I recognise that dull look in his eyes. I feel a flip in my stomach as I realise he can probably recognise _that _look in my eyes too.

But before I can look into it anymore I am down the corridor and being directed into a room. Sitting at the table is a man, with a similar complexion to myself, sits in hand cuffs and opposite him is a women with a strong jaw line, and pretty brown eyes.

"About fucking time" the woman cusses standing up, she shakes my hand abruptly. "You're the translator right? I'm Detective Deb Morgan, this asshole's name is Charlie."

"I'm Rain"  
Detective Deb gives me a sceptical look and directs myself to the chair in-between both herself and the criminal.

"Translate everything I'm saying and make sure you translate every-damn word this fucker says, we want him to confess as fast as possible."

I nod but my gaze is staring at the double mirror in the interrogation room. My green eyes glisten, they even reflect a shimmer of light, yet they are hollow; just like my chest.

"You ready?" Deb questions. I nod, my eyes deterring away from my reflection; it's true, beauty can hide a lot.

"Tell him we've found items of burnt women's clothes in his apartment" Deb doesn't even look at me, she stares directly in the eyes of the killer. Well, one of the killers in the room anyway.

I twist in my seat and I repeat the exact same words.

Charlie's hollow eyes squint and he smirks, he looks at me and then at Deb, quickly speaking in his native language.

I bite my lip, hearing the words of another killer isn't as satisfying or interesting as I thought it'd be, it's kind of… boring. I mean setting their prey on fire? Could you _be _more easy to catch?  
"Uhh…" I mumble

"What did the fucker say?" Deb hisses.

"He said…he said that he is picturing your skin burning on his fire." I cough, trying to create a face of disgust, "he says he wants to singe your hair."

Deb angrily glances to Charlie and then to me. "I'll be right back." She slams her fist on the table before rushing out. I sigh bored, I gaze at the open file of the 'Fire Killer'. What idiot leaves so much evidence behind?

"You'd be nice on my fire" he whispers in Maltese, he puckers his lips and inhales deeply. Automatically, I look at the camera which has a red light flickering on its side. I ignore his comment casually leaning back into my chair, crossing my legs. "There is something about your pretty little eyes" he leans forward, his breathe smells of cigarettes.

"Back off" I threaten quietly in his language.

"Or what? You'll set me on fire?" he laughs.

"Actually my chosen method is stabbing" I openly admit, my eyes glaring into his. For a moment I imagine him in my bed, his naked body over me, him thinking that it is a moment of passion. I imagine his eyes looking into mine when I drive the knife through his heart. I shiver at the thought of the blood, adrenaline running through my core.

Suddenly the door swings open, reminding me of reality and both Detective Morgan and Batista storm in. I stand defensively, as I had done something wrong, but they throw a piece of clothing in a plastic bag in the middle.  
"Forensics have found his DNA all over the burnt victims' bodies, tell him." Deb snarls

Swallowing quickly, I repeat her words and the Fire Killer's eyes open wide in sudden fear. Is that genuine fear? I wonder if I will feel that when I get caught, if I ever get caught?

"That bitch is lying!" Charlie shouts louder "No DNA! No DNA!"

I smirk, the fucker is going down.

"I think you're done for now Miss Zammit, we have enough evidence to charge him." Angel states, and I exhale with relief and grab my bag which was underneath the table. Deb thanks me, but it's Angel who directs me out of the room.

"SHE'S A KILLER TOO! SHE'S A KILLER TOO!" I hear Charlie, the Fire Killer, yell in the background. I hide a smirk. Are all killers able to recognise other killers? Do we have an innate inner calling?

I walk out into the corridor seeing the same eyes I saw coming into the department. I think the answer is yes. I think we killers do.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Thank you so much for your help Miss Zammit" Angel smiles kindly.

"Please, call me Rain and you're more than welcome, I'll happily put any murderer behind bars." My inner Desire laughs.

Angel looks into my eyes, but unlike Charlie, he doesn't see discover the Desire.

"My department are going for drinks later, to celebrate the end of the Fire Killer, would you like to join?" Angel offers. Immediately I think of an excuse, I don't have a social life.

"I would love too but I have plans tonight" I lie smoothly. The Detective nods.

"Another time maybe" he offers pressing the lift button for me. He walks off and I am eager to get out of here. I wait, and as I do, a figure comes up by me.

"That's one less murderer roaming our streets" he says calmly. I turn looking at the familiar face I saw through the glass. I smile.

"Certainly." I reply.

"The names Dexter Morgan" he turns to me reaching out for my hand. I quickly glance at his identification tag around his neck before offering to shake his hand. He grips tightly. I grip tighter.

"I'm Rain" I pull my hand away ignoring the dull ache in my bones from the contact. The lift opens and I step in, he does the same, his eyes never tearing away from my face.

"Rain in Miami? That's a new one" he laughs lightly. I recognise the fake laugh but I return it all the same. "So you're a translator? How many languages do you speak?"

"You're full of questions aren't you?" I turn to him as people enter the lift, I rise my eyebrow sceptically.

"I'm interested in geography" he admits. The lift opens to the lobby.

"Then go read a Globe Mr Morgan" I say calmly, before walking out of the police station and away from Dexter.

~~~  
Sitting in my cushioned chair, I click onto the information of Dexter Morgan. Can a man be squeakier clean? Nothing. Not a parking ticket, not a late-payment on his bills. I shake my head rolling my eyes, could a man be any more obvious? To be real, or to act to be real, you're never going to perfect. Silly Dexter Morgan.

My Boss storms into my office, I click off the website, pulling up some documents I am meant to be completing.  
"How was homicide?" he asks.

"It was… interesting." I hum.

"I'm glad you had fun, but I want the translation report on my desk by the end of the night, you understand me Rain?"

If I thought it was justified to kill innocent people, this asshole would be the top of my list. But as I agree to his request, I pull up another profile of a man called Rick Morris. Previous arrests for sexual harassment and rape, I recently found out that Mr Morris has a new girlfriend in town. I doubt it will be long until his urges take a hold of him. But I'll take him out before it gets out of control. As I mentally plan how I'm going to kill this pathetic loser, the thought of Dexter Morgan continues to tick in the back of my head.

~~~

I chuck the report on my boss's desk and I trek out of my work building. It's been almost two weeks since my last kill. Such long breaks in-between the kills make it more exciting, but I can't lose my concentration, I cannot make mistakes due to my Desire. The only time I genuinely smile, or genuinely laugh is before the kill and during it. It fills that emptiness in my chest with… with a bubble that's made of my victims' blood.

As I begin to drive home my eyes, by force of habit, look into my rear mirror. The silver car behind me has been following me since I got out of the car park. My blood begins to boil, did I give something away at Miami metro? Did they find another translator who watched over the video of me admitting that I prefer stabbing people?  
I take the longer route to my apartment, and eventually the car that was tailing me vanishes. Convincing myself I was being paranoid, I begin to think about tonight's kill.

Rick goes to this bar every Friday night, from 9pm to midnight. He goes alone, meeting up with his loser friends (who have no past history of abusing women.) I walk in a couple of minutes before Rick is due to arrive. I always make myself look attractive for my prey, I dress to impress the particular interest of my victims. I know Rick Morris finds flirty women attractive but not loud, he likes public sex and women he knows he could pin down if needed too. He may have a girlfriend at home, but I doubt that will stop him from cheating. It never has in the past. So I walk in, in a tight backless black dress, I wear black pumps; never heels, I can't afford to twist an ankle when I take the rapist down. I sit at the bar, drinking Rick's favourite drink (Malibu) and I wait, my eyes seamlessly gazing at the door every 3 minutes. It's not long until I see him, and his group of friends, glide in. I watch them sit at the bar opposite me, the same seat they take every week and at exactly 9o'clock. I begin the hunt.

It doesn't take long for him to look at me and eye me up. I play it cool, my chest buzzing with excitement, I smile warmly toward him. I've straightened my hair, it's gotten so long, now it hangs below my waist. I should cut it… An image of Charlie Cassar singing my hair suddenly appears in my head, instantly changing my mind. I realise Rick is advancing towards me, his eyes squinting with an odd seduction. I graze my thigh, the knife strapped tightly around it giving myself the confidence boost of tonight's endowers.

"Rain! You made it!" A familiar voice surprises me, I turn around to see Angel Batista taking a seat near me, alongside faces I saw earlier in homicide department. Shocked I shake my head, unable to say anything. I turn to see Rick has returned to sit with his friends, talking to another girl. I run my fingers through my hair in annoyance. Fuck!

"Would you like me to order you another drink Rain? Angel offers. Sighing, I nod.

"Sure, why not?" I rest my cheek in hand. I guess tonight's kill has been cancelled.

"They're not as bad as you think" Dexter's voice trails to my other side, he's sitting on the stall to my right. A sudden burst in my stomach ignites, the same feeling when I feel my knife going into someone's heart. "Except Vince Masuka, he's the creep." Dexter's dips towards a short Asian man, who is too busy staring at the bartenders tits to realise she is asking him a question.

I turn back to Dexter accepting my drink from Batista. "So you're a police officer?" I ask even though I know he is in forensics for blood splatter; what a great fucking job – blood. I'm slightly envious.

"Not me, I do blood."

"You do blood" I repeat the phrase, liking the way it rolls of my tongue and chest.

"I do" he grins with a darkness hiding in his eyes.

Suddenly I become very interested in Dexter, an urge washes over me and not the usual murderous one. I want to know Dexter Morgan, he's got… something. But as I go to ask a question, I notice a pretty little blond being held by the wrist and directed out of the bar by Rick Morris. The Desire in me begins to burn, I can't let him hurt another girl.

"Excuse me, I've got to go" I explain grabbing my handbag, I quickly step away from Dexter and out of the building.

It may be dark but it's humid, typical Miami weather and in the distance I see Rick's car drive off into a distance.

"Fuck!" I growl stamping my foot into the ground.

"Something the matter?" I hear his voice again. I turn to see Dexter watching, as he casually walks towards me, his hands in his pocket.

"Uh, I was meant to catch a lift with a friend but they just drove off." I scatter pulling out my phone ready to call a taxi.

"I can give you a lift."

To the normal ear they would hear a generous question, but there is something dark to Dexter. Something dark in both of us.

"Sure, okay" I grin. This will be interesting.

_Hi guys, it's been a long time since I've been writing, but tonight has been a massive spree of fanfic typing! Please review! Clearly you guys know what I've been watching on Netflix recently! :)  
Review please! Maria xx_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It's the car. The one that was following me on the way home god-dammit! Without giving anything away I walk to the car and wait for him to unlock it.

"You didn't have to do this" I say warmly "It's only down the road."

He opens the car and we both clamber in.

"It's alright, you never know, there could be some sickos like the Fire Killer still wandering the streets." Dexter explains.

My Desire laughs, I am that sicko. But something in me thinks, so is Dexter.

"It's down a few blocks on the right." I say, trying to ignore the girl who is pinned down in her own bed. Rick prefers them like that, even if they're willing, he wants them pinned and strapped, I'm going to kill him, I'm going to fucking ki-

"How long have you lived in Miami?"

Feeling like he already knows the question, I try to bait him in.

"All my life." I notice the corners of his lips tug into a discreet smirk. "It's just down here" I point. He turns right, and pulls up directly outside my house. I try to phantom how he knows which house, I notice a squint in his eye as he realises he's cocked up.

"You're a good guesser" I laugh lightly.

"Good guesser?" he turns smiling, trying to play dumb.

"Thank you for the lift Dexter Morgan" I hum quietly. As I reach to open the car door, I quickly glance at him, his eyes never leaving mine.

"See you around" he replies casually. I step out of the car, close the door behind me and begin to walk to the house. A part of me really wants to see Dexter again, preferably with a knife in his heart.

~~

Plan one fucked me over big time, and it now runs the risk of Rick potentially raping others. Dusk is hitting over the Miami coast and I walk into the restaurant Mr Morris works in. After his two year imprisonment due to rape, not many places would rehire him. In college he was the best student in both physics and maths, but he threw it all away.

I sit at the booth I know he is allocated to serve, and by the look of his face, he recognises me and by the wink he flutters to me I think he is pleased to see my face. He begins to walk over.

"Hello there, can I get you a drink?" he purrs quietly as if he was at the bar and not wearing his work uniform.

"Well I should wait for my date" I sigh "But they're already thirty minutes late, so I think it's a no-show" I pout looking down.

"Well he's a very silly man" Rick claims "I get off my shift in fifteen minutes, why don't we get out of here; screw the asshole who didn't show up."

My Desire begins to burn. "Well…Rick" I look at his name badge "That sounds perfect."

"Cool. Great. Yeah" Rick says happily before beginning to walk away "Wait, what's your name?"

"Laura" I grin "Laura Morgan."

The fifteen minutes feels like forever but eventually, I am walking out into the car park with Rick Morris by my side.

"Do you not have a car?" Rick asks as we walk towards his BMW. I shake my head "No, I only live a few blocks away."  
We both climb in the car, I feel the garter around my thigh rub with delight. Rick stares at my lips, as if waiting.

"Shall we go to mine?" I offer. Rick eagerly nods his head and begins to reverse out of the car park and I point him the directions to my kill house.

~~

"This-this is your house?" he gasps as I flicker on the lights.

"It is indeed" Actually it's a house under the name of James Matthews, but the landlord doesn't have a clue.

"It's huge! Beautiful!" he exclaims.

"Yeah, Yeah" I hum, slightly bored. The same reaction every time. I'm not interested on their thoughts of the house décor, I just want them downstairs to myself. I grab a hold of Rick's hand lightly and I begin to direct him around the house.

Rick presses his body up behind me and kisses my cheek. "This is going to be fun, I've never known a girl to be so…"

"Easy?" I reply forcing a giggle. "Sometimes girls do what girls got to do" – for me, it's killing. "My bedroom is downstairs, I'm having the whole place decorated again so, we'll be in the basement, it's sound proof, so we can be extra loud."

Excitement bursts in Rick's eyes as he realises I am basically offering my body to him without a chance of escape. Finally we are in the basement, the room is covered with plastic sheets.

"Wha-?"

"I told you, the whole place is being decorated, this one too" I begin to kiss him and he returns the act.

The room seems so normal beside the plastic sheet on the floor but nearly thirty people have died in here, I direct him over to the bed pulling his top off of him. I bait him to the bed and he begins to pull my dress up; now the hunt begins.

I flinch and pull my kiss away.

"Wait, too fast, too fast" I murmur, pretending to be out of breath. Rick ignores me and reaches for the hem of my dress again. "Can we take it slow?"

"Come on you whore, you wanted this" he growls angrily. Pretending to be shocked I pull away but he grabs me by the throat. "You want me" he exclaims.

In the mean time I pull the knife out of my garter and keep it in the side of the mattress.

"No… don't do this Rick…" I begin to whisper but he's already pulling my dress over my head, pinning one of my arms down. My stomach flips in fear as it always does, the reality is scary.

I purposely didn't wear a bra, so the only thing I am wearing is knickers, he begins to slide off his clothes, I pretend to sob looking away.

"Don't be such a pussy, you were so eager." He snarls laughing. I reach for the knife feeling its cold metallic grip in my hand. His naked body is over mine and my Desire is anticipating the excitement.

"You're raping me!" I say. The same sentence I say to every man before I kill him.

"Yes baby, say it again."

As Rick goes to slide my knickers down I grab the knife tighter. I momentarily see a shadow and before I can warn Rick, he is injected in the neck with a needle and flops over unconscious.

Looking down at my naked body is Dexter Morgan, dressed in dark green clothes and black leather gloves, his eyes penetrate mine as his darkness reveals itself.

_Reviews will be muchly appreciated! Hope you're enjoying the story. _


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